


Unorthodox: Stormblood

by lady_summoner



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Military, Military Background, Military Backstory, Other, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Sexism, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, theorycraft fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_summoner/pseuds/lady_summoner
Summary: (FFXIV JOB THEORYCRAFT FIC. WILL BE SLIGHTLY NON-CANON FOR THE SAKE OF CREATIVITY.) On the brink of destruction after the final battle with Nidhogg, the Knights Dragoon fight to carve out a place for themselves in a changing Ishgard and Eorzea.  Seeking ever only to protect their people, the Order must now turn to the ways of their ancestors and relearn what it truly meant to be dragon knights.  At the same time, they must deal with societal upheaval in the ancient city...as well as the looming Imperial shadow stretching from Ala Mhigo.[Story begins at the tail end of Soul Surrender and the start of Far Edge of Fate]
Comments: 5
Kudos: 12





	1. Requisition

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm baaacccck. Round two of my dragoon nonsense, now Stormblood flavored! Again I apologize if I've gotten anything wrong, I'm cheerfully open to any debate on the theories fictionalized below, and I hope you enjoy reading my brain-drivel. I will be pulling from as much--even though it was limited--lore as possible regarding Ishgard and the Knights Dragoon during Stormblood, otherwise everything else will be pure theorycraft. And yes the level 70-80 Dragoon Job quests will be touched upon. Greatly. 
> 
> I also want to point out-as I did back in _Unorthodox_ that there is evidence stated in lore that Coerthas and Dravania played host to powerful monsters 'coming up from the south' prior to Thordan's betrayal. And given the fact that we had a FFXIV/MHW crossover a while back...I believe you can see where I'm going with this. :D -Personally I think the New World is possibly something in the vein of Monster Hunter in terms of beasties but we're not going there-
> 
> Ursulie the Meek is cited in Encyclopedia Eorzea I as the original creator of the Dragonlancer armor (HW Artifact DRG gear). I figured it wasn't too much of a stretch that a descendant of hers could have possibly returned to Ishgard to create new versions for the Order. 
> 
> Again, I will also point out, I am purposefully splitting away from the lore on the aspect of how many active-service dragoons there are--or rather, how many survived the final battle with Nidhogg. See the first story for details and explanation of that particular theory.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy. *bow*)

Lucia had to give it to the Knights Dragoon, they were the most adaptable and resilient military force she’d ever seen. Like Ishgard and the rest of Corethas, the reduced order had pulled itself back from the brink. Their numbers had been limited—so many senior dragoons to so many first years…but everyone, right down to the medics had worked themselves to the bone to rebuild.   
  


The first sign of hope? Retired dragoons who had survived the final assault—stepping up to help their senior kin in the order, taking on patrols, training, a guiding hand to the almost rudderless first-years.  
  


The second had been the dragons—from Vidofnir and Vedrfolnir’s broods. Many had expressed an interest in the Congregation and helped the dragoons on the patrols they could do with their limited numbers.  
  


The third had been the first summer after Nidhogg’s death. As predicted long ago in the meeting of the Order following the attempted coup by the Brothers of the True Faith…monsters returned to Corethas and Dravania. Nightmarish creatures of void, claw, wing—and needing the equivalent of a small army to defeat. Money had poured into the city from the onslaught of adventurers coming to fight the new threat, and even the capable Clan Centrio had found themselves at a loss. But with the added firepower of dragoon and dragon combined…  
  


The fourth had followed in short order-a sheer _rush_ of sign-ups for training in the Order. Which was both a good and bad thing—new blood was needed. The bad was that the training system needed a desperate overhaul, and the Knights-Dragoon were having to do it on the fly.  
  


The fifth was money. In no small part to their actions—and members of the new Parliament fighting on their behalf, the Knights Dragoon still had the same budget level that they’d had before. More help was coming in the form of re-appropriated funds from the Church, and Lucia had heard rumors that the occasional treasure-trove that was ‘found’ in Dravania promptly made its way into the Order’s coffers…not that she blamed Brucemont for it. She would be hoarding as much money as she could for a rainy day as well, especially with the still-low numbers the Knights Dragoon had. First years made up almost the entirety of the Order now, and they were awaiting a badly-needed set of inductions—squires that had survived the battle with Nidhogg and had been close to earning their drachen mail. The senior dragoons were starting to slowly taper off—retirement numbers were rising.

But as with all things…there were growing pains.  
  
  


\---------------  
  
  


“… _All_ the armor has to be **_replaced_**?!” Lucia watched as Brucemont winced at Aymeric’s bellow. “I thought you had that matter taken care of!”  
  


“About that.” Lucian rumbled.   
  


“We haven’t had the time until recently to sit down and properly go over the matter!” Brucemont gestured. “Losing Master Bellaire and his family crippled us with the smithy-“  
  


“Fucking narrowminded yellow son of a whore-“ Mathye grumbled from Brucemont’s left side.  
  


“We barely got lucky with Ursulie the Meek’s great-great-how many bloody times removed granddaughter coming back to the city and resuming her forebear’s work with us, and then every single night for the past moon it’s been chaos and anarchy in the Western Highlands and the lower lands of Dravania!”  
  


“Gentlemen!” Lucia barked-just in time before Aymeric could snap back. “Might I suggest we take a moment to compose ourselves?” Brucemont snapped his jaw shut, and Aymeric crossed his arms. Mathye made to open his mouth, but Lucia shot the healer the dirtiest look she had. Then she rolled her eyes as Mathye stuck out his tongue.  
  


“We can’t ask the dragons to ignore the armor any longer.” Lucian said into the silence. “There’s only so much aether can do—and we finally have the time to start correcting the problem.” Aymeric huffed, lifting a hand to rub at one temple.  
  


“I understand that.” He said. “But Halone—couldn’t we go at this piecemeal?”  
  


“That is piecemeal.” Brucemont said, pointing to the papers on Aymeric’s desk. “If we get the metal in one big go-then we can start working on the replacement sets literally the beginning of next week.”  
  


“What happens to the old armor?” Lucia asked, curious.  
  


“Destroyed. We already have the method to enchant replacement gear for the time being to handle our aether and flight-“ Brucemont began.  
  


“Our side of the infirmary’s ready for all the accidents and fuckery that will spawn from this-“ Mathye added, gesturing.   
  


“And it’s quiet.” Lucian finished. The Lord High Commander/Speaker of the House of Lords slumped back in his seat, picking up the requisition form. With a sign, he leaned forward, picking up a quill to sign it.  
  


“Can you at least not surprise me with something like this next time?” He commented. Brucemont shot him a grin, coming forward to take the paper.  
  


“If it makes you feel better…” He gestured to another page. “Hraesvelgr and the others have agreed. Sohr Khai is to be used as a proving ground for them to choose who is worthy of their power.”  
  


“We’ve already a list of junior dragoons who’ll undergo it.” Lucian added as Aymeric rested his elbows on his desk, curiosity on his features. “If they make it through successfully, the dragon that picks them will provide blood and scales for their new armor. You should come watch.”  
  


“I will.” Aymeric said with feeling. “I still remember my own experience there. Doubtless Hraesveglr and his brood will have figured out even more ways to test our mettle.” He snorted, remembering his fight with Vidofnir.  
  


“Vidofnir will probably very much enjoy having new knights to trounce.” Lucia said, reading the Lord High Commander’s thoughts. She looked to the trio. “Is there any more business to be had?”


	2. Sex (1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all things, sex and what comes of it is always a unchanging constant...even in the Knights Dragoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a cracktheory! that somewhere, someplace in Eorzea, somebody made **bank** from selling Garlean condoms to the Eorzeans for birth control. Barring that, somebody in the Ironworks. >:D 
> 
> That aside, it's well-known that Limsan pirates regularly rob Garlean vessels. Also I felt it a safe bet to say that the Church more than likely heavily suppressed any major possible changes to how medicine was possibly done in Ishgard, including the matter of birth control for both men and women. Even though Ishgard did business with Ul'dah--who is probably the highest-ranked city-state when it comes to medical treatment and practice, there would have probably been a great deal of medical aspects the Church elite didn't approve of.
> 
> \------------

At this point in her family life, she’d at least won the battle with the servants over her getting to do some basic chores. Shifting her weight, Riven used one foot to kick at the door in a knock.  
  


“Come in!” She heard Vahn’s voice. Gingerly balancing the tray with one hand to quickly turn the lever, Riven moved inside the office.  
  


“You didn’t come down, so I thought I’d bring dinner up to you.” She said. From his desk, Vahn looked up at her and smiled.  
  


“My thanks. I need to finish this paperwork…” He gestured to his desk, which was littered with books, papers, and other scraps of parchment.  
  


“You’re supposed to be retired.” Came a dry comment from Riven. The fabric of her skirts rustled as she set the tray down on a nearby table.   
  


“You never really leave the Order, you know this.” Vahn said. He got up, stretched, and winced as his back complained. Then the feel of a small hand resting on the problem spot made him smile.  
  


“Do you need me to have a hot bath drawn?”  
  


“No, I just have to move around a bit.” Still smiling, Vahn surveyed his wife, his hands resting on her shoulders. The he moved his right, letting it drift down until he could place his palm and fingers just over Riven’s womb.  
  


“Anything yet?” He asked, his voice almost a whisper. They already had one child-a Mi’qote girl that he’d found in a poorly-run orphanage in Ul’dah. However, despite all the changes that had come to Ishgard—inheritance and the ways of the nobility were still set in stone. He and Riven had chosen to wait until he retired from the Order to try for biological children, but they’d started a little bit early…before the paperwork for that was even created. Riven flushed pink, one of her hands coming to rest atop his own.  
  


“It’s been a fortnight since I missed my blood.” She whispered. Hearing Vahn’s sharp inhalation-and to quash the flutters that were in her own stomach, Riven shook her head. “It’s still early.” They wouldn’t know for sure until the next moon, and even then, Riven planned to leave the city and be tested someplace else as a utter confirmation. Most of Ishgard’s medical capacity was stuck with the rest of the Church conservatives in the Dragonsong War. And while the Congregation medical ward was as up to date as they could be (and if the rumors were true, updating even faster)—Riven knew that if she even visited a healer there and mentioned a suspicion of pregnancy, the news would be all over the Pillars the moment she left the office. Vahn nodded, but there was a hint of smile playing on his features, lighting up his aura. Riven smiled back at him, her fingers gently rubbing his hand.

\-----------------

“How…in the name…of Halone…did you get your hands on a _steady_ supply of Garlean rubbers?”  
  


“The less you know, the better.” Mathye muscled a box onto a shelf, then stopped. His right leg was starting to complain, he’d been standing on it too long. “Just take them, run, hand them out like candy and hopefully we don’t have to deal with Idiot A knocking up Idiot B and angry fathers coming in to demand repatriations to daughters honors, or mothers wanting to rip the hair off ‘the slut who led my innocent son into sin!’.  
  


“How much is this going to cost?” Brucemont asked.  
  


“You don’t want to know, bartering was involved.” Feeling the First Lance’s eyes boring holes into his back, Mathye sighed and turned around.  
  


“Let’s just say Limsa right now is having a very profitable season with all sorts of ‘goods’ coming in.” He said, making air quotes with his fingers. “Estelle was in the area, heard about it, figured why the fuck not, and now we’re getting them much cheaper than how old Decian used to hand them out. Ul’dah’s got something just as potent for the women to use on their end.”  
  


“Who’s going to give them the education classes then? It has to be one of you.” Brucemont gestured. He sighed, Bastien was cackling like a lunatic in the back of his head.   
  


“I am not teaching some hatchling to roll a rubber onto their dick.” Mathye was blunt.   
  


“Whose rolling what onto what’s dick now?” The men glanced towards the door, Illeanne had entered. The past year and a half still saw her in widow-black armor, and she served as one of the primary trainers for the female squires at the beginning of their entry into the Order.   
  


“Condoms. There.” Mathye pointed at another box.  
  


“My thanks.” Illeanne reached for the wooden cube. “What about the other half?”  
  


“See Estelle tomorrow morning.”  
  


“You’re not answering the question, Mathye.” Brucemont pointed out.  
  


“I am not teaching the young, dumb, broke and horny because that will end in me strangling a hatchling because they will say or do stupid shite.”  
  


“What question?” Illeanne asked  
  


“Someone has to teach how to…” Brucemont gestured. “Use these. Quietly too, I might add.” Birth control was not a popular subject among the conservatives of Ishgard. The blue-haired elezen frowned, putting a hand to the back of his neck.  
  


“Though now that I think about it, we need to have a class in general…I’m enforcing Estinien’s policies when it comes to sexual and personal matters.” He said. The former Azure Dragoon had been very explicit during his tenure—any type of assault on anyone, including rape, would be met with _extremely harsh_ punishment. Aymeric had the same policies in place for the Temple Knights.  
  


“Please and thank you.” Illeanne said. “I’ve already been noticing a few problems—and some of my students have come to me.”  
  


“Do you have names?” Brucemont asked. Illeanne nodded. “Good. Deal with them as how you see fit, and then turn them over to me.”  
  


“Somebody’s fuccked.” Mathye sang-song. Ignoring the glare Brucemont sent his way, he continued. “Speaking of which. Are you going to join in the betting pool on Vahn?”  
  


“What’s the bet?” Illeanne asked.  
  


“How soon his lady Countess is going to be walking around with a belly.”   
  


“I am not even touching that one.” Brucemont commented, turning around-what had he come here for before Bishop had distracted him? Ah yes, medical kits. “Also you’re a real spilled-blood brother, Mathye. What would Vahn think?”  
  


“Vahn’s arse was deep in the betting pool on me when we served, so turnabout is fair play.” Mathye shrugged, completely shameless.   
  


“I’m surprised you don’t have any bastard offspring lurking around.” Illeanne muttered. She rolled her eyes as Mathye shot her a cheeky grin. The medic had been a notorious manwhore during his time in service.  
  


“I always and still do, respect women.” He said.  
  


“Yes, one of the very _few_ redeeming traits about you.” Illeanne countered. She turned to leave with the crate. “Brucemont, I’ll have those names for you.” The medic watched her go, then exhaled.  
  


“She’s got too much of a work life and no home life.” He said, crossing his arms. “I understand her grieving, but even Matthaios has to probably be worried in the afterlife at this point.”  
  


“I’ve tried to give her days off, but she won’t take them.” Brucemont turned. “And…I don’t have the heart to force her to do them. I can only imagine what she feels like when she does return home.” Mathye glanced at the elezen. “She’s still in the apartment that they had moved into together.”   
  


“Even so, she can’t keep up this pace.” The medic said, gesturing. “She needs some time off. Or at the very least, a _way_ from here. If nothing, a change of scenery should help her mentally.”  
  


“I don’t know if I can do that, Mathye. We’re still short bodies as it is.” Brucemont sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again as the medic crossed his arms. “And don’t pull medical rank on me—you _know_ how tight the schedule is.” He paused, thinking. “Maybe there might be something after the Sohr Khai trials. I make no promises.”  
  


“That’s all I ask for. I’ll see what I can do on my end in the meantime.” Mathye said.


End file.
